Wedding Night
by lostloveloki
Summary: Loki and Sif have finally been wed. As they lie in bed together they marvel at the things that have come to pass, and on the adventures of marriage and parenthood which they are embarking upon.


Loki fell back onto the bed, panting beside his bride. The linens were bunched up haphazardly around his waist, and the sides of his body were lined with fresh red nail-marks which criss-crossed with the marks she made the night before.

Sif's hair had unwound from the formal updo she wore at the wedding, to an inky tangled, mess, through the aid of Loki's lecherous fingers. The soft, black tendrils of her hair overlapped slightly with his mane, as she breathed heavily in the aftermath of their wedded bliss. She lay completely bare, robed only by a thin veil of sweat and a pair of ruby earrings, which slumped against the pillow. Feeling the bed shift, she watched Loki through the corner of her eyes, with a content smile spreading over her lips.

She couldn't help but marvel at how far they'd come in their centuries together. They had been little more than proud, gangly youths on the night of their first kiss. A kiss spurred on by a moment of anger.

_Loki begrudgingly left his mother's study after being subjected to a lengthy lecture on responsibility. The sword master had informed the Queen of the young prince's habit of skipping training, and he was thus being forced to attend. Muttering curses under his breath, he walked the palace corridors and arrived in the grimy training yard where wooden swords clanged bluntly upon impact. At the other end of the training yard, Thor roared whilst he fought his good friend Hogun. Thor's attacks were brash and hard, contrasting with Hogun's thoughtful strikes. A group of young trainees had accumulated around them, cheering energetically for both parties. Among the loudest spectators were Fandral and Volstagg, who hollered joyfully every time a wooden sword struck flesh. Loki rolled his eyes in contempt, repulsed by the brusque art that Thor used whilst fighting._

_A female voice called the lanky prince's name, before she threw him a practice sword. Loki quickly caught it with one hand before turning to face her._

_"How about joining me for a round, instead of_ _staring at_ real_ men fighting?" Sif challenged him with a smirk. "I bet I can get you to fall flat on your face, cat eyes," she announced smugly. Though her hair was dirty from a tuck and roll, and her armour was too tight on her budding body, she grinned like a champion who'd slain hundreds of dragons._

_Loki held his wooden sword up and laughed. "Say what you may, _Lady_ Sif, but I'll always be more of a man than you."_

_She rolled her eyes._

_"I may not have the same weakness between my legs which apparently makes _you_ a man, but I surely have more courage and skill than you."_

_She immediately leaped forward and struck his sword. With her battle skills and his attentiveness to detail, they began a graceful and enthralling dance, which even stole spectators away from Thor's battle. Their dance was sleek, with the practiced air of ice-dancing partners. Every motion had an equal and opposite reaction, so that the swords would hardly every stroke flesh let alone strike it. Sif's style was thoughtfully offensive, while Loki's was smoothly evasive. Their lightness of foot and speedy reprisals earned several cheers from the small audience._

_They danced together with wood sweeping through the air for a long time before Loki finally grew bored. He created a double to take his place as Sif came leaping forward. She fell straight through it into a muddy puddle._

_"You cheater!" she yelled angrily as she turned, only to find his sword pressed right-up against her throat._

_"Yield."_

_"No! You're a cheating little runt! You can't use your magic like that! It's unfair!"_

_Loki grinned, as the onlookers began muttering and arguing amongst themselves. They liked the warrior maiden far better than the prince, but he was a prince after all. He could do as he pleased…_

_"Dearest Sif, an enemy will use all his resources to his advantage, and not fight fair just because of honour. When it comes down to either keeping one's head or one's honour, all intelligent men will choose their head."_

_Fuming, she hit his sword aside and got to her feet._

_"You're no man! A true man treasures his honour above all else, no matter what lies you spin!" She glared at him, wishing his tongue would fall out of that foul mouth of his._

_He pressed his lips together in amusement before merely chuckling, and walking away._

_On the way to that night's banquet, Sif took her chance, and pushed him up against a pillar enveloped in darkness. Grabbing his black leather collar, she hissed at him, "Never dare to do that again, you damn vermin. I don't care that you're prince; I don't care about your magic tricks. You don't deserve any glory or satisfaction from a dishonourable victory. If we ever spar again, then I expect you to do it like a warrior and not like a filthy little coward." She glared at the speechless prince, pinning him into place for several moments, before finally letting go._

_He instantly caught her hand, and pulled her back up against him. There was a faint shimmer in his eyes. A spark of hope was ignited by her display of hot-headed emotions._

_"I promise you, Lady Sif, I'll try to behave better towards you. But to you alone. I cannot promise to not trick Thor or the warriors three, as they are far too amusing victims. But you…" he stroked her cheek gingerly, "have earned great respect from us all. I shall treat you with the respect you deserve."_

_She stared at him with her lips parted and eyebrows arching in surprise._

_"You are the most honourable warrior I know," he breathed softly, his breath warming her cool lips. His eyes searched hers for a long time, trying to decipher whatever thoughts might be running through her mind, but failed to see past her shock._

_Something changed in that moment. A monumental shift had occurred. In that brief instance, she realised the truth. Her truth. His truth. Their truth. Loki, the prince who had always picked a fight with her, the boy who had always stared at her too long, the pesky brother of Thor, the prankster, the witty one, the tender one, the infuriating one… He cared for her. He always had. Anything he'd ever done to displease her had taught her a moral, or a truth which she'd stubbornly ignored. Their joint experiences began playing through her mind, and before she knew it, she had messily smashed their lips together and laughed._

Sif chuckled at the memory, and absentmindedly stared at the ornately decorated ceiling. Loki raised a curious eyebrow, but didn't press on. He knew too well that she would tell him her thoughts if she deemed it worthwhile, just as he would do the same for her. Her gaze wandered over the glorious, gold plated image of Yggdrasil which spread its branches directly above their conjugal bed. She could feel Yggdrasil's call deep within her veins, telling her to be careful with the new life it has gifted her with. A gift which it would demand back if she was not careful in the months to come.

Meanwhile, Loki admired the curious glow of Sif's skin from both the sweat of their love-making and what he hoped was undulating joy. He couldn't take his eyes off her body simply rising and falling with her gradually slowing breaths. Her rosy lips parted softly, and still gleamed with the moisture left by his tongue, from when he'd tenderly traced her lips repeatedly in his eagerness to memorise every moment of their night. His eyes raked over her placid features, down the long column of her throat, across the curves of her chest, past the hand which rest upon her upper abdomen, before finally settling on her innocuous stomach. He couldn't suppress his urge to reach forth and softly pressed his hand on her stomach, stroking the skin slowly with his thumb.

Her eyes immediately fell towards his caresses. Sif beamed and moved her hand on top of his, before gently squeezing his fingers. His smile widened as he propped himself up onto his other arm and caught her doting eyes.

"Unbelievable," he breathed lovingly.

Though she said nothing in response, her gaze spoke volumes. Warmth, love, joy, and pride were all churned into one inexplicable expression of baffled adoration.

A comfortable silence passed between them until their silent breathes synchronised.

"Tell me," Sif spoke at last, turning onto her side and pressing up against Loki, while his arm settled around her waist. "What do you wish our child to be? A boy or a girl?" Her eyes locked onto his, as she tried to read his expression. She found it hard to believe that there had been times when she'd found him unappealing. All she could think of now was how she wished that the child would have his soulful eyes.

"I don't care," he answered quietly, drinking in the warmth that exuded from her. "I will always love it no matter what comes to be, just as I shall always love you, my darling Sif."

As the honesty of his words rung through her body, their lips met once more and repeated their blissful vows anew.


End file.
